Page 69 of The Mistletoe Countess
“Ah well, I can imagine she’s fit to be tied after that.” She released another sigh and offered a renewed smile. “Wish me luck.”
Grace took Aunt Lavenia’s hands in hers. “It was such a pleasure to meet you, Aunt Lavenia.”
“I believe we are to be very good friends, my dear Grace.” Lavenia turned to Frederick. “Excellent choice, Frederick, and I simply adore her hair. Adds color in this world of colorless characters.”
Grace’s attention followed Aunt Lavenia, her smile growing until Lavenia disappeared down the hallway. “Oh, I like her. She inferred I was a character, and I do so hope I turn out to be a heroine in this story.”
He slipped his arm around her waist and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I can assure you, you are the heroine of mine.”
She stared up at him with such unadulterated tenderness, he nearly kissed her much too thoroughly in the middle of the Green Room.
“So when do we set off for London to sort out what this letter is all about?” She tapped the paper in his hands. “Didn’t you mention needing to travel there to meet with estate solicitors anyway?”
Her question doused the warmth her gentle look inspired. “I don’t know if this is something we ought to pursue.”
Grace’s bottom lip dropped. “Aunt Lavenia clearly suspects something, and your brother’s words were terribly—”
“It’s not as simple as that.” He stood, distancing himself from the onslaught of her incoming argument. “This has the potential to bring unwelcome attention, and that’s the last thing the Astley name needs right now.”
“But surely the truth is worth the risk.”
He walked toward his office, trying to keep his breathing slow, but his pulse staggered into a gallop. After Lily, then Celia, and his brother’s unexpected demise, if news emerged that something underhanded had occurred, it would only lengthen the shadows over Havensbrooke, especially with Frederick’s name attached again. “It sounds as though my brother was ill when he wrote this letter. He could have been suffering from paranoia.”
“Or paranoia had been induced by situations or”—she stepped to his side and paused with a gasp—“or certain liquids. I’ve read of a variety of soluble contents which can cause—”
“Grace.” He didn’t even want to consider where she learned such information. “My family name is in a vulnerable place. I have to consider the implications of drawing attention to a speculation.”
“A life-threatening speculation!” She squeezed his arm. “Someone may have tried to kill us in your car last week, not to mention the attempt on your life in Whitlock Village. The last thing I want is to lose a husband I just marr—”
“We have no proof either of those were anything more than coinci—”
“Frederick, there very well could be a murderer free, and what if he strikes again?”
“I’m not willing to take this family through a wild goose chase over something that’s more imagination than reality.”
She snatched the letter and waved it in front of his face. “This letter is real.”
“And incomplete. One does not pursue a remote theory based on inconclusive findings.”
“Clearly you’ve not been reading your Sherlock. Every mystery starts with a remote theory based on inconclusive findings.” She placed the letter back in his hand but wrapped her other hand around theirs. “Havensbrooke is a part of your story. You have to discover the truth.”
“This is not a story, Grace.” His resolve teetered on the edge of control. “This is real life. There are consequences and…and possible dangers.”
“There are always consequences and dangers when you live a life. And of course this is a story.” She waved toward one of the portraits on the wall nearby—his grandfather to be specific. “It’s years and centuries of stories. Of people playing the heroes and heroines and villains of their own lives. It’syourstory.” She pressed a palm to her chest. “Mine. You decide what part you’ll play.”
“It’s not as simple as that.” He collapsed into his desk chair. “It’s Havensbrooke’s legacy too. You have no idea how scandal redirects futures in my world.”
“Wouldn’t the greater scandal be to allow a violent person to hurt someone else? I know enough to realize shadows follow people when you’re pointing toward the light, Frederick, so we must—”
“What do you know of it, Grace?” He shook his head. “You’ve been here two weeks.”
“I know we must pursue what is right.” She stepped back from him, her brows furrowed. “You can’t ensure the future of Havensbrooke if you’re dead, and I mean to protect you, even if you will not protect yourself.”
“And I must protect my family’s reputation. Myhome.” His words sliced into her argument. “You can’t understand the burden I bear. The expectation to make things right. Centuries of expectations. How can you possibly understand it?” Her wounded expression dug his frustration deeper…at himself. “Your family is from new money. What would you know about the kind of sacrifice I must make to secure this future?”
As his accusations reverberated off the silence, the hurt in Grace’s eyes hardened to steel. “You’re right. I don’t know what it’s like to carry the weight of all those people on my shoulders. I don’t know how to be a storyteller of others’ adventures because I’d rather live my own.” She pulled her ring from her finger and slammed it down on the desk. “And what would I know about sacrificing for family? Or risking everything to do what was right to save the people I love fromscandal?”Her words pierced into his argument with enough accuracy to send pain shooting through his chest. “Practically nothing, Lord Astley.” She leaned in, her fiery gaze demanding his full attention. “Whether you claim it or not, you were born to be a hero, not a shadow. And heroes don’t hide from the truth.”
With that, his joyful, innocent bride stormed from the room without one look back.
